


I Won't Run From You

by justyouraveragestoryteller



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daryl Dixon & Beth Greene Friendship, Doctor/Patient, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of attempted suicide, Mentions Of Past Characters, Nightmares, Nobody Dies, Physical hurt/ comfort, Sickfic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justyouraveragestoryteller/pseuds/justyouraveragestoryteller
Summary: “I mean it.” She says, daring to raise her voice a little. “You’ve got to leave me.”"M'not leaving you." He says gruffly, and turns on his side away from the girl.He could fix bruises, he could fix cuts, he knew his way around twisted ankles and dislocated shoulders. He dealt with every other injury the 18-year-old managed to inflict on herself, but something like this was out of his hands.ORBeth gets sick after the fight at the prison. Daryl has no idea what to do.





	1. Chapter 1

It's halfway through the summer when it happens. Except, neither of them are exactly sure when it happens. Like everything else, their sense of time is a little skewed. To make matters worse, Daryl had confiscated the teenager’s diary days ago to use as firewood. It held the tally marks, a makeshift calendar of sorts.  
“We needed to know.” She’d cried, the shadows staining her cheeks as the journal-page fire glowed in the background of their camp. “How are we supposed to know how much time has gone by now?”  
“What’s done is done.” He’d fired back. “Don’t waste your energy whining.”  
In hindsight, maybe he should’ve asked before he’d burned it, but they’d needed the fire. After an hour of silent treatment, Beth admitted she wasn’t sure how long ago she’d started counting, so they would’ve been useless anyhow.  
…  
The conversation surfaces once again five days later. Beth decides that it's July. For some reason, this irritates Daryl. He argues it isn't hot enough. It has to be June, or better yet, late May. Beth pouts at this, remembering the fireworks Hershel and her mother used to set off at the farmhouse. Daryl ignores her bittersweet reminiscing, swallows a snide remark about the fire hazards, and continues walking.  
…  
Nevertheless, around May, June, or perhaps July, Beth got sick. Beth got _really _sick.__  
Worse, though, was the fact Daryl had no idea what to do. He could fix bruises, he could fix cuts, he knew his way around twisted ankles and dislocated shoulders. He dealt with every other injury the 18-year-old managed to inflict on herself, but something like this was out of his hands.  
She's sick. She's so fuckin' sick. And he's terrified.  
Beth wasn’t much of a talker, but for the past few days she’d been silent. In fact, neither of them had said a word. Daryl was watching her far too carefully to keep up his usual sarcastic commentary.  
She's feverish, shivering, and shuffling around like a walker. Her nose bleeds. She sheds layers of clothing only to bundle back up minutes later. She coughs to the point of gagging. During the night and when they move camp he learns to sit her down and push his shirt against her mouth, frantically muffling the noises. She leans into him, whimpering as the coughs wrack her small frame. All he can do is rub her back and encourage her to keep breathing. Those noises almost got them killed on multiple occasions.  
But he's more terrified that she'll stop. Their rations improve, but only because she refuses to eat. Anything and everything makes her nauseous. Swallowing sips of water proves impossible, and Daryl has half a mind to try and force it into her, but he wouldn't feel triumph in watching her throw the rest of it back up.  
They find an orchard of apples near a destroyed property, but there isn't much time to celebrate. He doesn't want to make her worse off than she already is, and he isn't sure her shrunken stomach can take anything unfamiliar, even the over-ripened fruit.  
So he enjoys the sweet flesh of the apples himself, instead persuading her to drink some of the juice. It hurts her throat.  
One day, after hours of hiking, she faints. It scares the shit out of the older man, but he manages to catch her before she goes tumbling down the face of the cliff.  
Seeing nothing else he can do but break the fever, he places her in a wash bin of wild chamomile and hose water. That day proves to be one for the books, Beth cries quietly as she sits there, wet and shaking, pleading to be let out. He holds her hand throughout the half hour, promising they'll figure out what's wrong.  
The truth is he has no idea what is wrong.  
…  
“Daryl.” Beth rasps, reaching blindly for him in the dark later that night.  
"Beth?" He can't deny his tone raises an octave. "What's wrong?"  
She draws in a ragged breath. “You can’t keep doing this. I’m just slowing you down.”  
He clenches his free hand into a fist.  
“Shut up.”  
Both of them know that it's true. Tonight marks the third night Daryl has secured the camp by himself. Not only that, he's also taking double-shifts to keep guard.  
“I mean it.” She says, daring to raise her voice a little. “You’ve got to leave me.”  
“M’not leaving you.” He returns, gruffly, and turns on his side away from the girl.  
“Daryl.” She whimpers. “I'm not selfish enough to let you die protecting me."  
Daryl sighs. The fear in her voice is real. He'd learned quickly that the teenager was selfless, and stupidly so. She was too involved with the people around her, and that was dangerous in a world like this. They weren't around forever.  
“I’m not leaving you anywhere, Beth," He promises, feeling incredibly hypocritical. Who was he to make promises he couldn't keep? "...and i’m not plannin' on dying either." He waits a minute before adding. "Neither of us are, okay?”  
Silence.  
“Okay?”  
Nothing.  
Daryl suddenly is nauseas, fear blooming in his stomach.  
“Beth?”  
But the girl is fine. She's fast asleep. Through the faint light of the dying fire, he can make out her tangled blonde hair. It frames her hollow features, sweeping gently against her cheekbones.  
His shoulders sag with relief.  
...  
They move camp the next day, closer to water. Daryl thinks furiously, mentally calculating what they know. Or, rather, what they don't. He doesn't know who she’s gotten this illness from, or why he isn't sick too, but he knows that Beth needs more help than what they have in their bags. She needs antibiotics, and Daryl has a hunch the sooner the better, because the half-empty bottles that Merl left him were a death sentence when used incorrectly.  
Two days later, they find a house. A farmhouse, really. It's stocked and clean and no walker has gone near it. It has fences. Daryl carries Beth inside and closes her in the first bedroom he finds, forcing her to sleep while he secures the perimeter.  
Even better, he finds a half-empty first aid kit under some loose floorboards, and that will have to do. He isn't going to tell Beth what else he finds in the attic. What matters is that the kit is clean, it has something in it, and all the sterile packages are sealed. It's the best lead they've had in the past five days, and they were going to hunker down until her infection passed. He grabs the plastic container and his flashlight, and heads for the stairs.  
He never looked at the walls. No matter how many houses they visited, he never looked at the walls. He has to try hard not to. Paintings of people that were now dead or gone or walking gave him a weird feeling, like somehow everything that had been was so different now you wouldn’t recognize it. Especially now that his head has to be clear, he keeps his eyes on the uneven wood, careful to not trip on the way up.  
He considers knocking, but decides against it because she's in such a deep sleep. He has to push hard on the dark grain and a creak echoes throughout the house as it swings open. Sure enough, the girl doesn't move. She's tangled in a torn duvet, hair spread in golden spirals across the pillow.  
“Beth?”


	2. The Farmhouse

Daryl moves cautiously into the bedroom, avoiding the rotting floorboards. They'd been fooled by the outside appearance of the house. Inside, while it seemed no walker had interfered, it was barely standing and reeked of mold. But he knows they have nowhere else to go. He also knows if they're going to stay any longer, they'll need to repair parts of it. He won't allow Beth to recover only to die because of poor carpentry.  
_Creak._  
He jumps nearly three feet. Beth doesn't stir.  
“Idiot.” Daryl mutters, already feeling embarrassed. It was instinct. He was on high alert, even safe within the walls of the home.  
He knows she can't hear him walking. She's in such a deep sleep that Daryl could probably fight off a slew of walkers in the very room. Creaky floorboards won't make a difference. No, her system was shot. Her body was healing, or rather, attempting to.  
And as he moves somewhat stiffly through the house, he realizes so is his. His legs ache with each step and blisters cover every square inch of his feet. The two of them had never spent so much time out in the bare countryside. Not since before.  
His eyes sting at the thought. Their time at the prison didn't seem real. Maybe it hadn’t. Part of him wishes it to be nothing more than a delirious fever dream, likely brought on by the hard liquor he’d found in the cabinet downstairs. He’d been raised on Georgia moonshine, and was proud to say Merl and him had built an impressive tolerance. He should wait for the next morning, for the headaches and nausea and self-reflection that always come with it.  
But it had been real, and he continues to remember it vividly. It's more painful that taking a swig, and it burns in a different, spiteful way.  
Rick.  
Michonne.  
Carl.  
Judith.  
Oh, god, Judith.  
The baby was dead. The baby girl he’d named was dead. They were all dead. Reality is one sick bastard. He can't forget.  
The sound of his own heavy breathing brings him back to earth. Daryl chokes down the lump in his throat and returns his attention back to the girl. Beth is real. Real, but fading if he doesn't do something soon.  
“Beth?” He murmurs, lowering himself carefully onto the bed. The frame groans as he does.  
“Beth?” He rubs gently at her arm, leaning closer to the mattress. “C’mon, Beth. You gotta wake up for me.”  
The girl’s eyelids flutter, and she slowly comes around.  
“Daryl?”  
He winces. Her voice sounds worse than ever. It had a gravelly quality to it, almost like she's halfway swallowed a handful of rocks.  
“Where are we?”  
“Not the forest, if you can’t already tell. What’s the last thing you remember?”  
She frowns. It pinches a line between her eyebrows.  
“The orchard?”  
He forces a nod. “Okay. That was… a little while ago. Do you remember anything else?”  
She has to think about it for a minute. “There was a house.”  
He nods, relief washing over him. “Yeah, there was. We’re in a farmhouse right now.”  
“...Farmhouse?”  
“Mm.” He glances at the peeling wallpaper. “I know it’s not in the best shape, but something tells me it was like this before everything.”  
“It’s perfect.”  
…  
He manages to carry her downstairs without compromising the upstairs framework, and the two of them end up in the kitchen. They sit down at the table.  
Well, Daryl sits. Beth slouches, he observes. She doesn't even have the energy to sit up straight. It was time for an intervention. He took a deep breath.  
“Any chance you’re hungry?”  
She smirks a little. “Even if I am, there’s a good chance i’ll just throw it back up.”  
He agrees with that, but knows it's far more dangerous for her to deprive her body of the nutrition she needs. By some miracle, the pantry was half-full. They might as well make use of the resources. Daryl couldn’t eat it all by himself, no matter how up to the challenge he was.  
“You want to give it a try?”  
Beth makes a movement he interprets as a shrug. She was being stubborn. He was ready to start the argument, when something caught his eye.  
“What the _fuck _?”__  
Beth flinches at the word, glancing up to glare at him.  
But he only leans closer to the girl, frowning. “Beth, are you bleeding?”  
The teenager went white. “No.”  
“Don’t lie to me.” He snaps, now pointing to the growing crimson stain on her shirt. He hadn’t noticed it before. “What is that?”  
“I’m fine.” Beth promises, attempting to block his view by crossing her arms.  
“I never said you weren’t.” He volleys back. “I’m askin’ if you’re bleeding.”  
“It’s not a big deal-” She begins, but he already has her shirt in his hands.  
“Daryl? Stop. Hey, don’t!”  
He ignores her, gently lifting the fabric.  
“Oh...fuck.”  
All the vomiting, the fevers, the delirium. It all made sense now. She'd never let him touch her. She wore layers of clothing. She was always, always covered.  
Now he knew why.  
There are only a handful of cuts, but they're deep and swollen. They litter the bottom half of her stomach, crisscrossing into a gory pattern. A couple of the wounds had scabbed over, bruises now staining the surrounding skin. The one that worries him the most, though, is maybe six inches long. It was newly broken and weeping, with pus and scarlet rivulets of blood now running down her side and staining his fingers.  
Daryl’s grip on the fabric loosens and he looks up at the girl. He needs an answer. He needs her to give him something. Beth was struggling not to cry, whether from the pain or guilt he didn’t know.  
“Beth?” His voice doesn't even sound like his anymore.  
“I’m so sorry.” She chokes out. “It was getting better. I really thought it was getting better. I should’ve told you.”  
His heart sinks, both in the realization of her hidden pain, and the consequence of his own selfish desire.  
He knows that he has to stitch her up, one way or another.  
He also knows that they don't have anymore liquor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments/suggestions are much appreciated.  
> \- J


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves,  
> So I promised I would update chapters ASAP, and honestly, this week has been crazy. I have exams coming up and there's a lot going on. This chapter isn't as long as I thought it was going to be, or would like it to be, so apologies for that. Hopefully you'll still enjoy it!

Three months earlier - 

“I don’t think that any of them are dead.”  
Daryl snorts, not bothering to even acknowledge the girl as they make their way around the edge of a rusty gate. This was the third time they’d argued through this topic, and he was growing tired of it. He’d found that if he ignored her, she would grow tired of talking to herself. But not today, no today he was feeling particularly snarky.  
“That’s optimistic of you.”  
It came out just as icy as he intended it, but it didn’t phase the girl. Nothing seemed to.  
“I’m serious. We know some people got out.”  
“Some, Beth.” He emphasizes. “We know that some people made it outside the perimeter. That’s completely different that making it out entirely.”  
Silence.  
He sighs. Her obsession with this was beginning to concern him. He hears her stop walking behind him.  
“Daryl Dixon, you might be the most condescending person I know.”  
He smirks at that, turning to placate the teenager, because she clearly wants his attention.  
“I’ll take that as a compliment, considering you don’t know a whole lot of people right now.”  
“Oh, you would, wouldn’t you?” She sneers, and growls in frustration. “Why won’t you believe me?”  
“It’s not-” He tries to say, but she was already disagreeing. He shook his head, turning away from her again.  
“No! You listen to me. Sasha, Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Carl. They could all be alive!”  
“And Judith?”  
“Her too! We don’t know what happened. We have no idea.”  
Daryl whirls around suddenly, fire coiling in his stomach.  
“Beth, i’m only going to say this once, so listen closely."  
The girl stops in her tracks, eyes widening in surprise.   
"We don't know exactly what happened after we left. I'm guessing the entire place went up in flames, because we heard the screaming and there was so much smoke. There were walkers everywhere, though, the governor and his whole fuckin’ posse of lunatics were running around, and a lot of people died."  
Beth shook her head at him. "No."   
"...And there’s a good chance that everyone is dead except us, as much as I hate to admit it. Do you understand?” He takes a step closer to her, and the girl is still shaking her head at him, face twisted in pain.  
"Daryl, stop."   
“If that’s true," He continues calmly, not breaking eye contact with the teenager. "If it’s just the two of us, I need you to accept it. I don’t want you wasting your time or your energy building up fantasies. It's pathetic"   
He knew the last part was harsh, and he regrets it as soon as he says it, because Beth looks at him the way she looked at Rick the day of the shooting at the barn. With fear, disgust, and complete and utter defeat.  
“I hate you.”  
That was the first time he made her cry. It wasn’t the last. 

...

Present day - 

Beth can’t stop crying. Daryl can’t stop apologizing. Somewhere, buried deep in his subconscious, he knows that they are making entirely too much noise. His words and her sobs are echoing off the walls and carrying down the halls, and only grower louder. How much longer could this go on without attracting the walkers, or worse, other people; outsiders searching for refuge? The thought of intruders stumbling upon the house and taking what they had was enough to make his stomach twist. Even worse, he knows it would be all too easy, what with Beth unable to run. He couldn’t carry her, and they couldn’t stay and fight. All it takes is one gunshot, and they were easy targets.  
He’s suddenly aware that the kitchen has by far the most broken windows.  
And fuck, this is all his fault.  
He hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t checked her. Hadn’t thought she was stupid enough to hide something like this from him. But she was, she had, and now Daryl is out of his comfort zone. He has no idea what to do. Where was Carol when you needed her? Daryl is no doctor, but he knows enough. Without the liquor, there was no way to spare Beth from the excruciating pain of what was about to happen.  
Those cuts had to be stitched. They were too big to leave exposed. The infection that was currently festering within wounds, rotting away at her skin, it would kill her. He’ll have to re-open the infected scabs and clean them, then stitch them back together. Even then, he isn’t sure Merl’s stash of drugs will be enough to fix the problem.  
But maybe the pain?  
The sound of gentle weeping brings his focus back to her.  
“Beth, breathe.” He pleads, daring to move closer to the girl as she continues to cry, hiccuping over her words. “I know it hurts. You’ve gotta breathe.”  
“I… sorry.” She chokes out, rocking back and forth, hands covering her stomach. Her fingers had moved quickly to block his view of the cuts the moment he’d discovered them. She was protecting herself and it infuriated him. He was supposed to protect her.  
“I’m… sorry. I… didn’t tell…”  
“Shh, Beth. It’s alright.” Daryl says, keeping his tone even and calm as he kneels to her height. "Let's try and breathe, though. Okay?"  
“No…” She whimpers, refusing to meet his eyes. “...it’s not.”  
“We’re going to talk about this later.” He promises. “But first, I need you to sit up for me. Do you think you can manage that?”  
He can’t panic. Not yet. Beth manages to sit up, bracing herself with shaking hands. She looks a darker shade of green than before, if that’s possible.  
“There you go.” He encourages, a smile appearing before he could hide it. “There. Good.”  
And then her face contorts in pain and she turns her head quickly, leaning over the edge of her chair to vomit all over the floor. He moves quickly, pulling her hair away from her face and collecting the few loose strands. His heart twinges as the girl gags again and again, whimpering through each round of sickness.  
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them are sitting on the floor. Beth with a trashcan between her thighs and Daryl with a wet flannel in his hands. He dabs gently at her mouth, wiping the cool cloth down her neck and then shoulders.  
“I don’t want to be sick.” She mewls, and he can see a fresh round of tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t want this to be the way I die.”  
He doesn’t have the energy at this point to assuage her fears, considering it was well past midnight at this point. Daryl can only shake his head and wrap an arm around her waist, drawing Beth as close to him as possible. They sit that way for hours, her head on his shoulder, heartbeats in sync.  
It isn’t until dawn that she speaks again, finally realizing what needs to be done.  
“You have to stitch me up?”  
“That’s the plan.” He says weakly, trying to smile at her.  
“It’s gonna hurt.”  
It’s not a question. He answers anyways.  
But ‘You’re tough’ is all he can bring himself to say, because she won’t even know the half of it until it’s happening. He’s hoping she’ll pass out quickly.  
The teenager looks to him, confusion marring her otherwise beautiful features. How did she look so damn perfect with tears running down her cheeks? It isn’t fair. She doesn’t deserve this. Any of it.  
“...You drank all the liquor, didn’t you?”  
“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Comments and suggestions are much appreciated. 
> 
> \- J


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, finals are the worst. I apologize for the short length of this chapter, but i'm trying to do everything at once and it's a little overwhelming. Once school is finished (two more weeks!) I should be able to really get into this. This work is almost finished, so leave thoughts and comments below to let me know how you're liking it! 
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> \- J

He wakes before dawn with dread in his stomach and a raging headache. Light doesn’t sweep across the kitchen floorboards for an hour or so, and he sits there in the silence, listening. But there are no noises.   
Above everything else, that had been the most difficult thing for him to comprehend. After the outbreak there had been nothing but silence. No cars. No sirens. No birds. He hadn’t heard music in months other than the mindless strumming of a guitar back at the prison. He preferred Beth on the piano anyhow, though he wouldn’t ever admit it.   
The only noises he heard nowadays were shotgun blasts and the footsteps of unwelcome strangers, dead or alive.   
He struggles to keep his eyes open, breathing heavily through the thick Georgia air. He swallows hard. It hurts. The aftermath of the alcohol and sleeping sitting up is setting in, leaving him with stubborn muscles, sore and pulled tight around his neck and shoulders. But he couldn’t have moved during the night, even if he’d wanted to.   
In her sleep, Beth has shifted. She’s now sprawled across his lap, chin resting in the bend of his knee, shoulders rising and falling in gentle motion. Her hand, marred with cuts and calluses, drapes over his ankle. She’s peaceful. Sleep is her sanctuary. No pain, no death, no memories. She’s content. She’s beautiful.   
And he has to wake her.   
…  
A half hour later they’re arguing again. His patience is wearing thin, but he won’t dare yell. 

“Daryl. Just do it.” She pleads, lifting up her shirt.

“This isn’t make-believe, Beth.” He snaps. “Do you understand? This is serious. If I mess up i’m going to really hurt you.”

“But-”

“No. I’m cleaning the open cuts first.” 

But they don’t have any liquor. Daryl wrings out a clean t-shirt and adds soap. 

“This is going to hurt.” He warns. “I’m sorry.” He means it. 

He lays her on the table, thinks on it for a moment, and then undoes his belt and hands it to her. 

“Daryl… what?” Her face twists in confusion. 

“Bite.” He instructs. “We can’t make any noise.” 

Her eyes widen in fear and he tells her it’s going to be okay. He does that a lot, says it’s going to be okay. It seems repetitive, unnecessary even. But he’ll do anything to ease her mind, even if he has to do nothing but lie. He has needle and thread, and fuck, his knees are already shaking. He’s going to have to sit down. He manages to make it to a chair and move closer to her side. They’re at eye level now, and all he sees is watery green. The tears are building. Her chest heaves.  
This isn’t fair. He can’t do this. He has no idea what he’s doing.   
A hand reaches for him, fingers outstretched. 

“I trust you.” Her voice is thin and wavering. 

You shouldn’t. 

“Hey,” He clears his throat, resisting the urge to turn and run. “Shh, don’t cry. I know you do.”

Well, speak of the devil. Beth is true to her word - she doesn’t make any noise, but Daryl isn’t prepared for what happens instead.   
He couldn’t describe it. Unnerving seemed to sugarcoat the experience. No, it was terrifying to see her like this, gasping with no noises. Without the tears traveling down her cheeks, Daryl would’ve thought she was asthmatic. Instead, she was just in an ungodly amount of pain.   
He moves quickly as he can, although his fingers never really stop shaking. At some point Beth stops moving, but the tears never slow.   
His hands are stained red and somehow the thread seals the gaping holes in her stomach. Beth chokes on another sob, staring up at him with eyes rimmed-red and swollen. 

“I’m sorry.” She whimpers, and his hands are shaking. 

“Beth… you’re, fuck, you’re so much stronger than you think you are.” He’s near tears, attempting to make her understand is more difficult than the things he’s done over the past six months. 

Her fingers have already found the faint, pint scar that circles her wrist. Anger courses through him. 

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, Beth, don’t. You were a different person then.”

But she’s out of it again, sleeping somewhere in her subconsciousness, safe. 

That’s enough for him. He’ll accepts sleep if it comes to him, but it doesn’t seem likely with him sitting straight up in his chair, not daring to take his eyes off of her. 

He loves her. 

Oh fuck, he loves her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and/or suggestions below. Kudos are much appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> \- J


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, 
> 
> I know it's been a while since i've updated and all I can say is sorry, because this one isn't a big chapter and there's really no dialogue. Things have been crazy, i've been traveling, and quite honestly struggling with this story line. I need to finish strong, and it takes me a while to draft out my thoughts.  
> The last two chapters will be very long, I know this one is not. It's a quick lead-in to keep you guys updated while I get to business on the final stretch.  
> As always, thank you for reading. Please comment your suggestions and thoughts! 
> 
> \- J

Beth has nightmares later that night. Daryl finishes his dinner alone and promptly locks himself in his room, struggling not to focus on her cries from upstairs. The noises are muffled through the walls, but he knows she’s terrified. He can feel it. It’s sitting on his chest, building in his stomach. The memories. That day. He’s just as terrified as her. He knows what this means.  
It hasn’t happened since the prison, but even then it scared him. Truth be told, it made their whole group uneasy. Mostly because there wasn’t much that could be done. Beth was extraordinarily stubborn, it was no surprise her stubbornness carried into her grief. Daryl had learned that the day he met her, back when she was a scrawny teenager with tangled hair and a dark past.  
She hasn't changed all that much since he met her. At least, not physically. Emotionally, he imagines it's only grown more serious.  
It started with whimpering, she would make little noises during the night, tossing and turning. It kept him up at the compound, on rare occasions until the early morning. Other times her crying would stir him, and the sound of Maggie pleading with her to try and fall asleep again would add to it. The pain he heard in her sister's voice as she tried to help Beth affected him more than Beth’s fear, partly because Merl couldn’t even look him in the eye.  
Beth refused the sleeping pills. She refused to talk about it. Flat-out refused. All the while that day back at the farmhouse was haunting him. The day Daryl walked in to find Beth in the kitchen being stitched together by Maggie and Rebecca while she sobbed, pale as a ghost. Didn’t they know it would happen again if someone didn’t do something?  
But she was so set in her ways that the others grew tired of their efforts, instead choosing to focus on their own growing issues, and Beth only grew worse. Daryl should've done something. He could've gotten angry at Maggie. He could've yelled at Glenn for letting her give up so easily. He could've even thrown things. But it wasn't his place. It never had been.  
Rick had noticed the way he watched her though, and pulled him aside one evening.  
"She's self-destructive, Daryl. Don't get caught up in it."  
Daryl accused him of hypocrisy, reminding the leader of his own struggles that past summer. Who was he to tell him who he could and couldn't care about it? It didn't make any sense. None of this did.  
"She's got nobody! She's barely lived and you all are putting her off as some psycho. It's disgusting."  
"Lower your voice," Rick hissed. "Beth is young, Daryl. She's damaged and she's confused and I don't think you should get involved while she's trying to figure things out. She'll heal on her own."  
"Like hell she will!" He cried, willing himself not to break in front of his best friend. "Because I didn't. You didn't. Carl sure as hell didn't. Fuck you."  
The man gave him a sad smile in return. "You'll break her heart. You're going to regret it. I promise you."  
And Daryl ignored Rick's warning, but he kept his mouth shut.  
Daryl wanted to help then. And six months later he still couldn’t. He even stops waking her. It’s no use. He grew tired of trying to console her when she was half-awake and delirious long ago. It affected him emotionally more deeply than he could understand, and ignoring her was working so far.  
Hours later, he wakes when the door to the bedroom opens. He doesn't even have time to reach for a gun or wonder why the lock didn’t work, because Beth is standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a t-shirt. And tears are running down her cheeks.  
"Daryl?"  
Oh, god.  
She lets out a dry sob, her chest heaving as she does. Her voice is rough, laced with exhaustion and tears. He’s frozen.  
“Can I sleep in here tonight?”  
...  
It takes her hours to fall asleep. She cries through it all, apologizing over and over. He holds her as she does, promising everything’s alright. It’s not, and he’s not, and she’s not, but neither of them care. The words mean something else entirely, and he thinks that the way she is able to let go in his presence proves that.  
"I'm not okay - am I?" She whispers, face still buried in his chest.  
"No." He says, and runs a hand down her back. "And that's okay."  
They'll figure it out someday.  
And until then, he'll be there to help her through it.  
Because no one ever did for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos keep me going! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves,
> 
> Here's a longer chapter - as promised. A couple more are coming shortly. I'll be gone for the next two weeks, unfortunately, but stay tuned!
> 
> \- J xx

He finds her in the kitchen the next morning, huddled in a chair. She’s loading and re-loading her hand gun. It’s quite the sight, and he admires her technique from the doorway. The lump in his throat resurfaces, because he can recall the day Rick sat her down and taught her how to use it. Why did it feel so recent?  
There’s a mug of tea next to her, and - his breath hitches in his throat - a bottle of pills. He recognizes them from Herschel’s stock. Daryl didn’t know Beth had actually kept them. 

“You don’t have to act like i’m a flight risk.” She calls, keeping her eyes focused on the weapon. “I don’t bite, either.”

They’ll talk about her being a ‘flight risk’ later. Instead, he sidesteps the comment. 

“Good morning, Beth.” He tries a smile. It feels foreign on his lips. 

“Did I scare you?” 

“Scare me?”

“Last night, I mean.” She looks down at her hands. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

He makes his way further into the kitchen. 

“And what happened?” He pressed. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

She huffs out a frustrated noise. “I don’t know. I couldn’t stop crying.” 

“You couldn’t. That’s okay.” 

“But i’m so tired of doing it.” 

Her voice cracks on the last work. 

“Fuck!” 

Daryl pulls out a chair next to her. “Hey.” He says, more quietly this time. “You’re alright.” 

She shakes her head. “Stop saying that.” 

“Beth-”

“ _Daryl _!” She pleads. “Back off!”__

__He does just that, holding his hands up in mock surrender. The girl relaxes a little, tension loosening in her shoulders._ _

__“I think there’s something wrong with me.” She whispers, keeping her eyes focused on the gun. “I think i’m going crazy.”_ _

__“You’re not crazy.” Daryl promises, although he’d be lying if he wasn’t anxious for her to put the weapon down. “You’re exhausted and tired of living like this. We all are.”_ _

__“But are we living?” She argues. “Or surviving?”_ _

__The question hits him like a bullet in the stomach._ _

__“I didn’t think you’d remembered.”_ _

__…_ _

__Nine Months Earlier_ _

__He can hear them in the kitchen. They aren’t talking, but he knows it’s them. They’re the only members of the family that could be up this late. Especially today._ _

__She’s a nervous wreck: running around, opening and closing drawers, rifling through the cupboards, pacing the floor. She’s looking for something._ _

__He’s the opposite. Daryl can picture him: unaffected and stoic. He knows the man isn’t even flinching at his daughter’s panicking._ _

__“She needs more painkillers.” Maggie’s voice is a higher octave the usual, shrill and jarring through the silence. “We have to give her something more. The morphine won’t last until the morning.”_ _

__“She’s on an IV drip.” Herschel returns, calmly. “It’s late, dear. Call it a night. You need rest.”_ _

__“I don’t need rest. What I need is answers. Why did she, how - what _drove _her to this?”_ _ __

__

__“We can talk about this tomorrow morning.”_ _

__“I want to talk about it now!”_ _

__There is a loud noise. A plate shattering, Daryl thinks. Had it fallen or had she thrown it? He doesn’t move from his hiding place on the stairwell._ _

__“Oh, Maggie.”_ _

__“ _Damn it _!”_ _ __

__

__“Maggie.” Her father repeats, more firmly this time. “Lower your voice. People are trying to sleep. You need to calm down.”_ _

__“I wasn’t even there when it happened.” She whimpered. “If Andrea hadn’t done anything we’d be... burying her.” There is a wavering in her tone. “Can you imagine? We’d be having a funeral. Oh, God!” A loud sob echoes through the hallway. “Daddy, my little sister would be dead.”_ _

__…_ _

__As Maggie’s cries grow louder, Daryl turns to go. Although he was reluctant for sleep, he’d overstayed his welcome on the stairs. Try as he might, he couldn’t eavesdrop forever. He retreats down the steps to the hallway, moving quickly and carefully across the wood panels.  
He stops. A lamp in the study is on. The light flickers gently through the frosted glass door.  
Somehow he ends up in front of it. He knocks. Once. Twice. 

__“It’s open.”_ _

__And he pushes on the door somewhat hurriedly because that’s Beth’s voice._ _

__…_ _

__Put bluntly, the girl looked like a disaster. She was ghostly in the soft light, her hollow cheekbones and red lips stark in contrast to her pale skin. The bandages on her wrist made his stomach churn._ _

__

__

__“Hello. I thought it was just us three awake,” She muses. “Interesting.”_ _

__Us three? Oh, god, had she been listening to what they’d been saying?_ _

__“Tell me you haven’t been sitting here eavesdropping the whole time.” The man means for it to come out strong, even reprimanding, but he sounds more desperate than anything. If she’d been down here as long as he had, she’d gotten the worst of it. Maggie’s words weren’t as sympathetic in the beginning._ _

__The girl stares blankly at him._ _

__“...Have you? Beth, your sister is having a nervous breakdown in the kitchen, and you’ve been here listening?”_ _

__The girl’s lip pull into what could’ve been a smile, but it was gone too quickly for Daryl to make sure._ _

__“And what exactly have _you _been doing, Daryl?”_ _ __

__

__

__He feels a blush creep up his neck, because he knows what he did was more than invasive, it was rude._ _

__

__“That’s different. I was worried about you.”_ _

__

__Beth scoffs. “You and everyone else.”_ _

__

__In light of the grim events that had taken place that day, most would have overlooked her snarky attitude - perhaps even dismissed it as an aftershock. But it was late, and to Daryl she seemed nothing more than cynical and thankless. With her sister in tears a few rooms over, he’d just about had it._ _

__

__“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” He snarls. “Get up. We’re going for a walk.” He doesn’t even look at her as he strides for the door._ _

__

__He’s hoping she’ll follow, but isn’t positive she will. For a while, there is no response. Then the sound of a chair scraping against the office floor sends his heart pounding, but she’s not running away.  
She’s following him.  
His palm hits the screen door and they’re engulfed by the humidity of the Georgia air. 

__

__…_ _

__

__Daryl stops walking once they hit the cornfields. They’re maybe half a mile from the barn and a little less from the house. The vegetables stalks bite into the backs of his thighs, but he doesn’t care._ _

__

__“Are you going to yell at me?” Beth asks, her voice cutting through the silence. “I’ve already heard the speech from everyone. Hershel nearly slapped me.”_ _

__

__Daryl doesn’t like the sound of that. A conversation for another time, perhaps._ _

__

__“No. You know what you did was wrong.”_ _

__

__“It wasn’t wrong.”_ _

__

__“It wasn’t _right_ , Beth. You’re a smart girl. Own up.”_ _

____

__They are silent for a moment. Daryl fights the urge to run back into the house. Why was _he_ getting involved? _ _

_____ _

__“It wasn’t supposed to be this big deal.” She whispers, startling him from his thoughts. “I knew what I wanted. It would’ve been easy. No one had to know.”_ _

_____ _

__“Dying is easy.” He growls. “Living is much harder. And you of all people are strong enough to continue doing so.”_ _

_____ _

__“But I didn’t want to.” She whimpers, her fingers pulling nervously at the hem of her nightgown._ _

_____ _

__“Yeah? Then give me a couple reasons why. You’re looking pretty good so far.” He begins ticking them all off on his fingers. “In the midst of all of this shit you’ve got food, water, electricity, your family-”_ _

_____ _

__“Mama is dead, Daryl.” She cries. “And I don’t believe in favorites but i’m certainly not my father’s. Shawn is dead, and you never met him but he was the kindest person i'd ever known." Her chest heaves with oncoming sobs. "He was my brother and I worshipped the ground he walked on. Maggie and Hershel are all I have left, and I just bring them down.”_ _

_____ _

__“Well, locking yourself in a bathroom with a pair razors certainly brings them down.” He fires back. “Didn’t you hear your sister? She’s distraught. You nearly killed her too.”_ _

_____ _

__Beth pales suddenly at the realization. “I… I didn’t mean-”_ _

_____ _

__Daryl steps a little closer. “Well count your blessings, because there were people around who cared enough about you to stop it.” He lets out a spiteful laugh. “Christ, I never had anyone like that. If I'd decided to hole up in a closet with a bottle of pills one day... well, Merl would’ve walked away in a heartbeat - because that’s too much baggage for him.”_ _

_____ _

__“Wanna know what I think? You need to learn how to live.” He declares, jabbing a finger at her through the air. “You were surviving before. Learn how to live.”_ _

_____ _

__The teenager stares at him for the longest time before turning and walking back for the farmhouse. Daryl stands in the field for a moment longer, listening to the crickets and soft breeze of the early morning. What had he just done?  
… _ _

_____ _

__“Yes, I remember.” Beth says, setting the weapon to the side. “You know, I thought about that conversation for nearly half a year before I really understood what you meant.”_ _

_____ _

__“And do you now?”_ _

_____ _

__“Yes.”_ _

_____ _

__“Then there’s nothing wrong with you at all. You’re figuring it out. And that’s what matters.”_ _

_____ _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves. 
> 
> I realize i've been offline for a long time. I apologize. School is incredibly stressful and I've had no time to write. 
> 
> Here's something quick I have drafted to tide you all over until I crank out these next few chapters.
> 
> Happy Holidays! 
> 
> \- J xx

It was the morning the cold front blew in that Daryl began to feel it. He was unusually apprehensive. It wasn’t just the change of weather, although it was strange for Georgia to go gray this early in the season. 

No, something else about the chill air made him nervous and it was a deep, twisted feeling in his gut. Like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He felt sick, nauseous, and he couldn’t seem to shake it.  
Perhaps it was the meaning behind the cold, or what it meant for the two of them. 

Winter brought frozen lakes and spoiled crops, wind chill, blizzards, and damp firewood. 

Winter meant the farmhouse would need continuous repairs and with the little materials they already had, the rest of their stay didn’t seem all that appealing. Although, the thought of moving to find another safe house was enough to send Daryl flying to the front of the property to nail down any loose floorboards.

With winter came no food. With winter came hunger - for both the dead and alive. 

The morning the cold front blew in Beth decided to go for a walk, and Daryl didn’t realize until the snowfall had started. He’d spent a good twenty minutes searching the house, and while he was wondering how he could be so unaware and ignorant, he was also considering his options. He had two at the moment and neither of them were particularly good. He could either wait her out and scold her to no end when she returned, in fact, he should probably start drafting out what he was going to say now. Or, he could go after her. 

The latter seemed more productive, but he hadn’t the slightest idea of where she’d gone, or what she was doing. Or if she had a weapon with her.  
Jesus Christ, Beth. 

…  
By the time Daryl had decided on what to do, the snow was coming down in drifts, layering the ground with thick white powder and swirling above him like clouds. 

Honestly, if he'd known how it was going to end, he never would’ve left the farmhouse.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank you for your patience. I've been developing other stories and working through the craziness of school and work.
> 
> Here's a little something more. :) We're nearing the end of their story! 
> 
> \- J xx

_Earlier that morning...._

Beth woke with a growling stomach, only to find a quiet farmhouse.

She sat tangled in her sheets for a moment and recounted the events of the past twelve hours. Daryl wasn’t downstairs making breakfast or banging on nails like he did when she woke with the sun hung halfway in the sky. He was asleep. 

She couldn’t understand why that was strange, but it was. There were constants she had grown to expect. Daryl being awake was at the top of the list. It was comforting, in a sense, having him waiting downstairs with a can of peaches or stewed vegetables. They would eat together in silence for the most part, but it was easily her favorite part of the day. She grew lonely without his company. 

Daryl had no doubt succumbed to exhaustion the night before, vowing to take the entire watch shift as he always did. She told him it was a stupid idea, which he ignored, instead arguing to a point that she needed to continue resting. 

She couldn’t disagree more. She was anxious to get out of the house. Or rather, downstairs instead of confined to the quarters of her bedroom. Despite it all, she’d come to realize (albeit, a bit begrudgingly) that he was right. The physical and emotional wounds she’d sustained in the past month were severe, and they were still healing - much to her annoyance. The bruises had gone quickly, dissolving back into cream-colored skin, but the cuts and sores were taking much longer, yet another blow to her ego. Maggie had always teased her for being so fragile.

It was another kind of pain to remember the times when Maggie was around. She missed her sister more than she could fathom, and it was that kind of longing feeling that consumed her thoughts daily. 

She was going stir-crazy. 

It was time to escape, even for a little while. 

What else was there to do?

… 

She was quiet. She always was. She’d learned the louder parts from the quiet ones in the farmhouse a long time ago. The floorboards would always creak at the base of the stairs, and the third step from the bottom was rotting away, but she stepped quickly over it as she made her way out down the hall. 

There was a chill to the air outside, it bit at her cheeks and chapped lips, leaving her complexion blushed. The cold breathed life back into her, now her veins were throbbing with adrenaline and excitement, something she hadn't felt in weeks. She closes the screen door behind her, relishing the quiet. For just a moment, it was normal. She felt okay. 

Daryl, meanwhile, slept on, completely unaware of her little adventure out in the forest. 

… 

Beth didn’t have a plan. She wasn’t going to walk far. The property of the farm was large, she didn’t need to stray from the boundaries. All she wanted was a change in scenery, that was the basis of this little trip. She craved something new, something different from the peeling wallpaper and broken windows. She welcomed the fresh scent of snow, of pine, of change. 

Her head was clear out here, her thoughts free. 

When she was a little girl, Mama would take her down to the country fair in town. There was hot chocolate and snowball fights and ice skating. She loved the winter. 

Well, loved.

Everything was different now.  
… 

_Present time_

“Beth?”

Daryl’s running through the fresh powder, clouds of it flying behind him as he moves towards the forest. 

_Where would she go? What would she take? Right? Left?_

“BETH!”

His mind is spinning, eyes wild and frantic as he surveys the open field and then the forest, and then back again. He had to choose, there wasn’t enough time.

 _She’d take the cover, she’d go for the trees. She doesn’t have a weapon._ He thinks, but he’s not really sure. _Oh god, she doesn’t have a weapon._

Thankfully, there’s no need for him to choose. He spots Beth right by a cluster of pine trees, her hair blowing in the storm. 

“BETH!” He yells, taking off towards her. 

The girl doesn’t move, swaying a little in the wind. She stares at him, her head cocked to one side like she’s studying him. 

“What are you doing?” He demands. “Are you insane? You’re not even wearing a jacket!”

Beth doesn’t say anything, staring blankly at him. Daryl reaches out, grabbing ahold of her shoulder and shaking it. Her eyes snap up at him, like she’s noticed him for the first time. 

“I was going to come back inside.” She says quietly. “I just liked the snow.” 

He doesn’t know what’s going on inside her head right now, but he’s sure as hell not going to figure it out in the middle of a blizzard. Beth turns away for a moment, staring at the storm. It’s moving faster now, tearing at the tree branches. 

“Let’s go.” Daryl tells her, and turns to go. “Jesus, Beth, you terrified me. I thought you’d up and left. ” 

And that was the _wrong_ thing to say. 

“I won’t _run_ from you!” Beth shrieks, whirling around to face him “Is that what you think I'm planning? After all of this? All that we've done together? I’m not going to just _leave_ , Daryl. I..." She's stammering, thoughts wild with anger, on the verge of tears. "I wouldn't do that. But I’m not your ward." She tells him. "I’m not some invalid. I can make my own choices.” 

“We’re not talking about this right now,” Daryl growls, and points back to the farmhouse. “Move.”

Beth’s got a fire in her eyes now, words blazing when she says:

“You can’t keep telling me what to do.”

“Beth,” He’s got a serious edge to his tone now, daring her to challenge him. “I’ll put you over my shoulder. I swear to _god_ I will.” 

So she moves, punctuating her steps with a growl, and heads off for the hill.

And he follows after, mentally struggling with the concept of loving someone who _infuriates_ him to no end at the same time. 

They were going to figure this out. Here and now. He was going to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> Please comment below and let me know what you thought.
> 
> \- J xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves,
> 
> I just want to say that all your comments make me smile. Thank you for reading and re-reading and liking and commenting, it's amazing. It's why I do this.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Only a few more left!
> 
> \- J xx

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” Beth fumes, shoving past Daryl as they re-enter the farmhouse. “You know I wouldn’t walk beyond the fence. I’m not stupid.”

“Until you stop doing stupid things, I can't really say I'll believe you.” 

He slams the door hard behind them, the noise echoing through the empty house. 

Beth gives him a look that could melt glass, and walks into the kitchen. He follows. 

Daryl is quickly losing his patience. He knows this, her moods. He’s dealt with them all, and she has a stubborn streak, he knows this. He knows she’s difficult to reason with, but nothing of this caliber. How could Beth not realize how dangerous it was to do something like that? 

“An’ stop taking off at the crack of dawn, leaving me in a panic, out of my mind with worry-”

“Don’t badger me,” She says hotly, and he knows the tears are building, even if she’s adamant to keep them from falling. “I already apologized. I won’t do it again.” 

“...How about instead of doing it _again_ ,” He snarls. “You try an’ stop trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit. You're bored. You’re itchin’ to get out of here, but you don’t have to remind me by doing that,”

He throws an arm towards the window, where outside the snow is swirling in thick clouds, threatening to break the already cracked windows. 

“My god, it wasn’t _that_ reckless -” 

“Yeah? How fuckin’ reckless do you have to be?”

She sidesteps the comment, throwing another question at him instead.

“Daryl, why did you think I would leave?”

Her voice is quieter now, calmer. Daryl realizes, painfully, how hurt she was by his words.

“Oh, Christ,” He sighs, his anger fading faster than it came on. “I didn’t mean it that way, Beth.” 

“Why did you say it if you didn’t mean it?” 

Her lip is quivering, her eyes glassy, wide with hurt. 

“It’s not-,” He hisses in frustration, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’ve got this energy to you, it’s… it scares the hell out of me.”

“And you thought I would just take off?” She asks, resisting the urge to turn and run, just to spite him, just to make him stew in his guilt. “Turn and leave? No goodbyes, no thank-you’s, no nothing?” 

_No love-yous._

She’s shaking with anger. Who did he think he was?

“No,” He shakes his head, struggling to make her understand. “But I was worried something would happen. I’m protective.”

_Of you_. He wants to add. 

“Yeah. Fuck that.” She spits out, shrugging her jacket off and letting it fall to the ground with a thunk. 

“Beth,” Daryl warns as the girl heads for the stairs. “Come back here. We’re not done yet.”

And Beth turns suddenly, rounding on Daryl with a wild look in her eyes. 

“You might not be, but _I’m_ done.”

For a split-second, cold fear courses through him. What does she mean by that? 

“Are we really doing this again? Does-” 

“I don’t understand, Daryl,” She cries, cutting him off. “Do this, don’t do this. Go away, come back, yell at me, comfort me-”

She falters off for a moment, hands shaking.

“Tell me what you want! I’m done pretending to know what you’re thinking.” 

She’s got real tears in her eyes now and he always does this, makes her cry.

“Daryl, what do you want?!”

“You.”

_Oh, god._

“I… what?” She stammers, not expecting that in the least 

“You.” He repeats. 

“Stop it. What do you mean, me?” 

“ _You_.” He chokes out, and it’s all out in the open now. No take backs. “I want you, Beth. That’s why I’m protective. That’s why I’m terrified. I can’t lose you. I thought I was going to once, an’ I won’t do it again, feel like that, fuckin' terrified…” His voice is broken now, raw. “It broke me, Beth.”

“But you push me away,” Beth mewls, tears rolling down her cheeks now. “I don’t understand. You want me and then you don’t.”

"Don't say that," He tells her gruffly. "It's not true."

He bridges the gap between them to pull Beth into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing hard. She lets out a sob, releases what she’s been holding back, and her shoulders are shaking. Her trembling hands find his waist and they fit together, finally, they way they want to. 

“I do want you,” He says, and he means it. “I always have.” 

“I fell in love with you,” She gasps, and his heart is pounding. “Months ago, but I thought you didn’t want me.” 

“I’m sorry,” His chest is heaving with tears, and god, he doesn’t remember the last time he cried like this. “I’m so sorry, Beth.” He holds her closer. “You’ve been alone with all of this, everything you’ve gone through.”

“I forgive you,” She says quietly, but it’s the strongest voice she’s used all day. “We’ve been through and hell and back, haven’t we?”

A laugh rumbles through Daryl, his chest shaking from the force of it. Then he’s quiet again. 

“I swear to god you won’t ever feel that way again. We’ve got each other now,” Daryl pulls back for a moment to kiss her forehead, something he’s wanted to do for months now. “Me and you yeah?” 

“Yeah,” She echoes. “Me and you.”

 

They stand there for a long time, hearts pounding, adrenaline coursing, but their tears drying.

The storm grows louder outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Comment/like below if you liked it!
> 
> \- J xx


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello. :)
> 
> I know some of you will be disappointed with this chapter being the last. This story has been a part of me for such a long time now (over a year!) and I love the fact that I can share it with you all.
> 
> Your comments, support, and general positivity towards these updates has made my heart happy.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> \- J xx

_January_

They wake the next morning in the same bed, with the same thoughts, and the same memories of the night before. 

Beth exhales. She reaches her arms above her head to stretch out the muscles used hours before. She was sore, but for good reason. After everything that had happened, it seemed only fitting they’d ended up in bed together. 

We put our energy to good use. She thought with a smirk. Who knew? 

“Thank you,” She tells him. She means it. 

Next to her, a smile tugs at Daryl’s lips. He props himself up on an elbow, cheeks flushed from the Georgia heat, eyes glittering with want. 

“For what?”

“You know what.”

The smile grows even more. 

“Of course, birdy.”

There’s a flutter in her stomach, the same tension, the same feeling before that release the night before. He hasn’t called her ‘birdy’ in months, and not anytime during her recovery. It would’ve seemed cruel, comparing her to something so frail, so rare when she herself was fighting tooth and nail to live.

The nickname surfaced in the early summer of last year, when Beth would complain at the lack of birdsongs. 

...

_“Fine,” She’d huffed, put off when he’d teased her. “Forget I said anything. It bothers me, I can’t help it.”_

_“I’ve got no complaints,” He shrugged. “It’s better quiet.”_

_“It’s unnatural. I don’t like it.”_

_“Beth,” He’d sighed, slowing his steps. “A lot is different. Time to move on, yeah?”_

_“I just miss it.” She returned, quietly, and her tone was so serious it made him stop and turn._

_“The birds?”_

_“Everything.”_

 

_He’s not quite sure what to say to that, and then -_

_“I know, little bird.”_

_“Daryl!” Her cheeks are warming now, even in the early morning frost. “Don’t mock me.”_

_“Wouldn’t dare, birdy.”_

… 

“You’re so beautiful,” Daryl murmurs, and breaks Beth from her thoughts. He pulls her gently back to him from under the sheets, an arm circling her waist, drawing her to his side. She rests her head on his shoulder, breathing him in. “I haven’t seen you like that, not in months.” 

Like that. Last night. Carefree and blissful, completely surrendered to Daryl’s lips, his hands, his cravings. She’d laughed, too, in an effort to let go of her worries and fears. Daryl had misinterpreted it at first, and backed off, worried he’d hurt her. Later, he told her that she was the most beautiful while laughing. 

_“I’d missed it,” He admitted between kisses, pulling her off him to suck in a breath, lungs almost hurting from lack of air. “How much you smiled, the way your eyes lit up. S’like you’re back here, now. Down on earth.”_

_“With you?”_

_He nodded, his own eyes glittering with a smile, a smile she hadn’t seen in a long time._

_“With me.”_

_Beth pulled Daryl in for another kiss, tasting him and a faint trace of moonshine._

… 

_March_

“Are you sure?”

His voice is so quiet. In contrast to the yelling and fighting of last year, it’s almost unsettling. Beth puts down her pack to look back at the man. 

Daryl stared back, dark eyes unblinking and wide with a rare uncertainty. He’s got a wool cap pulled down over his ears to protect them from the morning chill (at her insistence) and he looks younger with it on, his features softened. 

He looks scared. 

Beth sighs. Any attempt to soothe him would go unnoticed, she knows Daryl is not one to be coddled. 

“Yes,” She says. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?” 

There’s a degree of reluctance in her own tone she can’t deny. 

“I just-”

“Daryl,” She chides. “It’ll be alright.”

They are standing shoulder to shoulder in the field in front of the farmhouse, about to leave everything behind.

“Don’t like it,” He muttered. “Everything we’ve built up,” He shakes his head, a frown forming. “I don’t want to go.” 

They had to. They’ve no other choice at this point with the condition of the house. Their sanctuary for the past year had all but crumbled. 

They were better off leaving now. With tinned vegetables, dried foods, and energy at the start of summer, they might stand a chance, especially when there was still fresh water to find. 

Beth takes a deep breath in and reaches for his hand. Her fingers lace through it tightly. Daryl squeezes back, hard. 

“Think about who we might meet along the way,” 

_Carl. Rick. Judith. Michonne._

The names are there in an instant, coursing through him. Then comes the adrenaline, jolting him awake and rushing through his veins, his heartbeat thrumming rapidly in response. 

“Them,” He corrects, and Beth nods.

She’s relieved when he tugs on her hand. He pulls them away from the porch steps that moments ago were just in reach.   
“Who knows who we might find,” He continues. “Or when.”

“I love you.” She confesses suddenly, and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, a blush already forming. 

Daryl is dumbfounded for a split-second, looking much like a child in a man’s clothing, but then he smirks. It’s all too familiar, and for a moment Beth wants to take it back to wipe the look off his face.

He was a smug bastard, and he did like the fact that his girl loved him enough to admit it aloud. There was nothing egotistical about it, he honestly appreciated hearing it.

Daryl pulls Beth closer to him, so close that she can feel him breathing, his chest rising and falling. She can smell him, too. He smells of rainwater and green grass and peppermint - they’d found pastilles in a tin weeks ago. 

He smells like home. 

That’s when she realizes it, that they’ll be truly alright. They are one. They are in sync, two moving parts in perfect conjunction.

Daryl kisses her deeply, and Beth can taste the peppermint candy.

“I love you too,” He murmurs, and Beth buries her face in his chest for a moment, memorizing his smell. Memorizing him. He runs his hands over her shoulders and down her back, up and down. 

“Are you ready?”

“Are you?” 

Daryl laughs, and she can feel his body shake with the force of it.

“I think it’s time to go find our people, birdy.” 

They set off into the forest, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I thank you for reading this story. Now that it's over, I'd love to know what you thought of the portrayal of the characters, storyline, development, etc. It helps me become a better writer. 
> 
> Please leave your thoughts below. Don't be shy. :) 
> 
> \- J xx

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. 
> 
> I really appreciate your comments. They are so exciting for me to read and often you guys give me awesome ideas! Please don't hesitate to write out a little something. :) 
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> \- J xx


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